Shrike and Sparrow
by Wrath Flamesoul
Summary: He's entirely helpless now; there's nothing he can do at this point to fight you. That should be your cue to kill him... right?


**Disclaimer: **Itachi found Sasori and had him create the antidote to the drug I slipped into Kishimoto-senpai's eggnog, and now they're forcing me to relinquish the rights to _Naruto_. What they don't know is that I've made millions of copies of the contract hidden away in the shed out back… Which is… being burned by Itachi's Amaterasu… Damn it… I still own Neji, you fiends! *throws Neji over shoulder and runs away*

**Apology: **GOMENASAI! I know I said the new chapter was coming soon, but I really liked writing in Neji's point of view and I promised one of you (you know who you are) another NejiSasu with Neji on top! Please forgive me! *bows*

**Shrike and Sparrow**

Unexpected, wasn't it? The power of the instinct, I mean. The lust. The need.

Unexpected how good it feels to have him writhing under you, trying to bite back moans and growls as they try to respond to what you're doing to him. Incredible, isn't it, to feel the wiry muscles in his arms surge against your hands as you pin him down, refusing to allow him to get up. Apparently his physical strength isn't _quite _what everyone expected, but that only makes it easier to dominate him now.

His flesh tastes so good, doesn't it? Or is it the sweat rolling off it that's making it harder to take it slow? Quite the situation you're in: do you want to savor this newfound dominance, or do you want to get to the part where the pleasure takes total control of your bodies? Such a difficult decision to make; I can't wait to see which you go for.

There wasn't really any fighting it, was there? All you knew was that he was there in front of you with that damn smirk on his face – as if he thought you wouldn't have the guts to get him alone – and you'd already had a drink, right? But let's be honest: that one cup of sake wasn't enough to throw your inhibitions to the sea, not after all the after-mission drinking games your idiot teammates forced you to play along with. It would have taken three bottles of sake at a minimum before losing yourself to the alcohol would have been a good excuse.

No, the truth is that you wanted him – and you didn't care what anyone who found out would think.

He finally gives up trying to stay quiet, and his quiet growls reverberate through the skin of his throat and into your lips as you suck on the tender flesh there. You're trying so hard not to tell him to shut up, aren't you? You're enjoying this far too much to let his overgrown ego spoil this moment. Still, you can feel a smirk pull at your pursed lips as you start to nip at his neck. A startled gasp rips from his chest before he can stop it, surprising you both.

Under your stomach, you can feel the muscles in his torso turn to stone as he fights against another outburst. You have a bit of a fight of your own for a moment – one of your hands tries to move away from his arm, only for you to halt its progress in time to feel the muscles there harden again.

It's supposed to be an assassination, genius. You're supposed to be fighting him to the death, weakening him so that the others will have a chance at killing him. You all agreed to that, didn't you? All of you – even the stupid pink-haired ditz who's still in love with him for reasons none of you can comprehend.

You move up to his ear, nipping at his earlobe and resisting the urge to laugh when he starts moaning freely. _That _was what you've been trying to get out of him, that release, that acceptance that you're in control now. You grin as another half-moan, half-growl ripples through his chest.

It was so easy to get him to follow you to this little upstairs room – bought only after you'd given the manager the remainder of your funds, despite the fact that this "private room" smells foul after who knows how many months of neglect by room service. All you had to do was give him one loaded glance and he was after you like a cat after a mouse. Too bad for him he had the roles reversed, but then, perhaps that only made his shock all the more pleasurable.

His arms move, and before you can react, his hands are gripping your biceps tightly enough to mark your pale skin. You raise your head to see a very hungry look on his features, and you notice the slight quiver of his upper lip, as though he's fighting back a snarl.

You smirk and ask him what the problem is, and he responds in a voice so husky it's just a growling whisper.

_Don't toy with me, Hy uga._

Well, apparently he's not as willing to submit as you would have liked. Somehow, though, that doesn't kill the mood; quite the opposite, isn't it? The knowledge that he won't roll over for you almost makes you even more eager than before. For a moment you forget that you're supposed to be amused by his show of obstinacy.

You smirk at him, letting your lips part just enough to let him see the teeth behind them. If he thinks a little growling and snarling is going to make you give up on this now, he's a fool, and by the look in his onyx-toned eyes, you know he can see that in your face. He grimaces and turns his head away, growling under his breath.

The look on his face when you locked the door to this obviously well-used, rotting hole of a room was sort of refreshing, wasn't it? You enjoyed seeing him caught off guard for once, right? Obviously you did, because that look of wary confusion only added to your need to have him under you.

Interesting. And here you thought he was stubborn. Could it be that this raven-haired man underneath you wants this more than he's letting on? There's only one way to find out, and that's to tease him even more.

Gingerly you release one of his arms, pausing just above the still-pulsing muscles to see if he'll react. When he doesn't try to shove you off, your hand finds its way to his hair, twisting in the soft strands to tilt his head back. Not as hard as you thought it would be, is it? It's almost like he's not really trying to fight you, isn't it?

You lean down and run your tongue from the base of his neck to the edge of that strong jaw, drawing a deep-throated moan from him as his back arches off the mattress, pressing his torso against yours so that you can feel the pounding of his heartbeat against his ribcage. Perhaps he can feel your heartbeat, too.

The sheets are still tangled and haphazard after you all but pounced on him. Remember how his face looked when you stalked towards him? When you pushed him onto the mattress and pinned him down, remember how, for one second, you could see the anticipation flash in his eyes?

Your other hand comes off his arm, faster than before, more careless now that your blood is rushing so badly. Your free hand grips his neck, pushing up against that spot on his jaw that forces his mouth open before your lips connect almost violently with his. Surprisingly, his tongue forces its way into your mouth almost desperately, before you even have time to run your tongue along the edges of his teeth. In your shock, your jaw clenches, and a moment later he snarls what sounds like a swear word at you and yanks his tongue back out of your teeth.

You pull away long enough to snarl back at him before going for his mouth again. This time you think twice about trying to force your tongue into his mouth, certain that he'll try to get even with you. For the second time, he takes your say in the matter away.

His hands twist in your hair, pulling you down until your neck and his are so tightly pressed together that both of you can feel the breath rasping through each other's throats. His tongue slides into your mouth, slower his time, pressed tightly against your top teeth. When you don't clamp down this time, he maneuvers that tongue to somehow wrap around yours, pressing against it demandingly.

Slowly, you let your tongue slide into his mouth, tasting the blood from the small cut you left on his flesh. The salty taste only seems to make you even more eager to take him, but he still won't let you go. You try to pull away, only to have his hands grip your hair until your scalp burns. When you do the same to him, feral growls tear from your throat and his in a sort of miniature power struggle. For one moment your eyes lock onto each other, ruby and quartz, fire and ice. Neither of you are willing to give up at this point, are you?

Finally he releases his hold on your hair, and you're able to pull back and move down to his abs, trailing your bloodstained tongue down the length of his body while he shivers with the waves of pleasure going through his body. His hands are still in your hair, and you can feel him pushing ever so slightly on your scalp, urging you to go lower. You respond by moving even slower, drawing nonsensical patterns on his skin with bloody saliva while his irritated growls fade into moans that almost plead for you to stop fooling around and finish it.

_What's the matter, Uchiha? Am I not moving fast enough for you?_

The words slide out of your mouth in a seductive purr that seems to confuse him when paired with your mocking tone of voice. He finally settles on a growled, half-formed swear before your lips move lower, down to the perfectly-toned plane just above his member. His muscles writhe now against your mouth, and you can hear the low, barely audible moan that's just on the edge of being a whimper. His fingers tangle your hair as he clenches his fists into tight, desperate vices.

Have you had quite enough now? You can't tell me you aren't just as eager as he is at this point. He's still got his boxers on; you managed to throw yours off while you were pinning him in just the right position. That was on purpose, wasn't it? You're going to make him whimper and beg you a little more before you finish this, aren't you?

Because, let's face it, you like it this way. You like having complete control, almost as much as you like knowing that the other person will do anything you demand for that one second of relief. It's your high; the reason you used to be so sadistic when you battled against your peers. After you gave up on that, you had no way to relieve that urge to control. It's just been building up, hasn't it?

You slide your tongue under the elastic band of his boxers, just far enough that you can feel his shaft with the tip of your tongue. He bucks his hips again, violently, and a moan so high pitched that it sounds feminine tears from his throat. His nails dig demandingly into your scalp.

Are you finished with your little power play? You've still got quite a way to go before either of you can come the way you both want to.

Oh, what a surprising twist. Are you finally beginning to realize that this isn't simply lust? Now, on the edge of insanity, with this new longing to take him, can you see what you blinded yourself to before?

It's been there all along, fool. You know it's been there, from day one. You've pushed it away, haven't you? You were afraid you would seem weak… that he wouldn't feel the same, and you would only make a fool of yourself. Looks like you were wrong. Look at how he reacts, fool. Listen to him, moaning and whimpering and doing everything he can in the position you've put him in to make you finish this.

He wants you, too. Maybe he's wanted you as long as you've wanted him.

This doesn't totally screw things up, does it? You'll only be despised by everyone you know if this comes to light. You might even be charged for treason, letting Sasuke live – let's just ignore the fact that you're _screwing him_.

His former teammates – and whatever team he has now – will never forgive you. They'll hate you for this. They'll call it rape. You've just marred your name forever, genius. No reason to stop now, though; the damage is already done, and he could still kill you if you stop. He'll think it was the alcohol, since he doesn't know about your team's drinking games.

Besides, why stop when you're so close to that release you both so desperately need?

My, that was fast. And just a moment before, his boxers were securely around his waist. Somehow they've found their way to his foot – how did they slide off the other one, anyway? Those shallow scratches in his skin, spaced far enough to belong to your fingernails, could be a clue. A little hasty now, aren't we?

You use your knees to spread his legs, both you aren't ready to enter him, not yet. You take his member in your mouth and suck on it, nearly choking when he thrusts further into your mouth. You can taste the sweat and precum, and the taste of it almost makes you lose it. Almost.

You stop just before he can come, and he lets out a primal sound that's so close to a scream that it hurts your ears. He swears violently at you, and his nails dig into the skin on your shoulders until you can feel your own blood streaming down your arms and back.

You don't like that, do you? The screaming. It makes him sound vulnerable to you, weaker than when he was whimpering, more defenseless than when his tongue was caught in your teeth. It makes you want very badly to ease whatever pain you've put him through.

How did your mouth end up on his again? Suddenly you're looking him in the eye, trying to silence him with whatever he might see in your eyes now. Can he sense that you're close to finishing now? Your hands are on his shoulders – not to restrain (though his nails burn deep gashes into your skin), but to reassure. Slowly, his hands relax again, and you let him calm down without breaking the kiss.

There, he's still now. You pull away and lean down to kiss the side of his neck, positioning yourself before clamping down on his skin and thrusting into him. He screams, and his nails dig so deep you wonder for a moment if he'll scratch the bones there. You already know to expect bruises from those long fingers.

You don't let the pain subside – you know that will only make the next thrust just as painful. Instead you keep thrusting, letting the adrenalin and building ecstasy determine your speed. With every cringe or choked scream, you whisper in his ear.

Do you know you're telling him something he's only heard a few times before, from people who are either dead or unimportant to him now? Do you have any idea what effect those words might have on him, if he's still clear-minded enough to hear and understand you?

Imagine, if you can at this point, what he must have been through, those years while he was under that snake bastard's control. Imagine what disgusting, vile, inhuman things must have been done to him to satisfy the cravings of that perverted old man. Do you suppose he realized he was handing himself over to a pedophile? Do you think that perhaps that was the true reason he finally did away with that monster?

Maybe he did it for you. Maybe he'd had enough of pretending to crave what was done to him while that _thing _was torturing him? I wonder if that's where those scars that pattern his skin came from. He'd have you think it was from his training, but he couldn't really expect you to believe that, right? Do you suppose he was tired of pretending it was you who touched him in ways no one had a right to touch him?

No one but you.

_There._

With one last thrust, fire sears both of you, consuming reality and leaving you alone in nothingness. Your voices are a symphonic duet, baritone and baritone, screaming your names to whoever cares to listen. The moment seems to last forever, and yet, all too soon, it's over. You pull out, barely able to summon the strength to move after such a powerful rapture as that, and collapse on top of him, panting heavily.

He's already drifting off. He says your name again in a broken moan and closes his glassy black eyes. You barely find the energy to kiss him one more time before your body refuses to move.

This is it. He's asleep now, and probably won't wake up for a long time, even though his training would have left him a very light sleeper. Now's your last chance. If you kill him now, you can say you were simply trying to catch him off guard. They'll swallow it, even if they don't approve of your methods. It wouldn't take much to kill him… Your gear is only a few feet away, if you don't have the energy for one of your infamous Gentle Fist attacks. A knife to the throat wouldn't be so hard, right?

You close your eyes and drift away, letting the weariness have you.

**Author's Note: Another what-if version of Neji hunting Sasuke down, this time with Neji acting much more predatory. Again, it's Neji's subconscious talking to him, since it's fun to write Neji's point of view like that. I'm not sure which Neji I like more…**

**I don't think I like this story as much. It feels too… rushed. I don't know. You guys tell me. I do like how much Neji's subconscious makes fun of him in this one, though. X3**

**Oh, and a shrike is a small songbird, kind of similar in appearance to a sparrow. It's up to you who's who this time.**

**Merry Christmas, guys. See you in 2010!**


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